


you look like...

by fbawtft



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Like Adults, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rebuilding a friendship, but they kinda talk it out, its kinda fluffy at the end, jeremy is an ugly crier, jeremys squip is/was michael, they dont know the other likes them back, you know the au's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fbawtft/pseuds/fbawtft
Summary: “your choice,” he smiles. “because i hurt you and you deserve to have first pick in a game that you can beat my ass in because i deserve it.” he doesn’t say. “i’m sorry, i love you, you’re my best friend and i would probably actually die without you. please don’t leave, i’m sorry i’m sorry michael.” he doesn’t say. but he hopes it’s heard in the silence.





	you look like...

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello im back! i write in all lower-case for the sake of it being easier for me to just Write and not worry about my thought process n shit
> 
> uhhhh i didn't list the entire squip squad bc i didnt include brooke or chloe HOWEVER they are there in one scene, just not... speaking. also it's implied meremy, it didnt really fit into the plot, but they are both pining for each other. 
> 
> ALSO i never write this much and this prompt took me like. weeks to finish so here u go, nearly 4000 words and like 2 months later!
> 
> ** i have like 57328 more prompts to write s O

since he got rid of the squips through christine, jeremy had started hanging out with michael again but something seemed off; he was much more stand-offish than usual and evasive. hanging out with him sparingly and just over being short with him. he (begrudgingly) goes to rich the next day at school.

“hey, dude, do you know the deal with jeremy? he’s been acting shady since… i don’t know, the hospital?” michael laces his fingers together in his hoodie pocket, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“not at all, man.” rich makes a sad face at him. “i’d ask but the guy seems so jumpy lately, wish i could help, dude. i’m sorry,” he shrugs. 

“jeremy’s always so jumpy,” michael snorts. “ but, no, yeah, it’s good, i was just hoping to see if i could get a second insight on this.” michael fluffs it off, trying not to sound or look dejected.

rich claps a hand on michael’s shoulder (michael flinches slightly and if rich notices, he doesn’t say anything or let on) and smiles, “have you tried asking anyone else? jake, christine? his teachers maybe?”

michael thought about it for a moment, bringing his shoulders up in what looks like a tense shrug. “yeah, maybe you’re right.”

rich’s smile softens. “he’ll warm up to ya again, buddy. besides! you two are boyf riends, yeah?” he winked at michael and threw him some finger guns before bustling away. michael doesn’t get a chance to protest it, but even if he did, the heat from his face that started to fog up the bottoms of his glasses say otherwise.

so he grumbles to himself and pulls his headphones and hood up over his head, pressing the play button on a bob marley song. _ we aren’t  _ boyf riends, michael thought bittersweetly,  _ no matter how much i want us to be _ .

* * *

later that day, during lunch hour, michael sat at his usual table where, before the squipcident, only he and jeremy would reside. but now, after everything that had happened and all the bonding and shared experiences of loneliness and, a reach, trauma, the rest of jeremy’s new friends took up the empty space beside him. 

it didn’t bother michael much, he was happy to have other friends, but he also wished for the days when it used to be just him and jeremy. 

speak of the devil.

jeremy, ever the nervous wreck he constantly was, slouched his way through the cafeteria doors. absentmindedly, almost like someone caught him, he straightened his back so fast that it looked like it hurt. michael watched as his face shifted from his normal nervous resting face to fear and then to relief as he let himself slouch again. his eyes roamed the cafeteria, ghosting over the table that his new friends used to sit at before landing on his and michael’s table.  _ his, michael’s, and now, their new friend’s table.  _ that was always shocking to remember. that he had more friends.

the nervous look etched itself back onto jeremy’s features, almost like it was his default setting - it was - as his eyes laid upon michael who was, unabashedly, staring right back at him, skeptical and almost bored. jeremy’s face turned red and he felt sweat start running down the back of his neck as he turned on his heel and hightailed it out of the cafeteria and made a beeline for the courtyard.

michael’s brows furrowed and he started packing his lunch box back up (it was a metal _ star trek _ one that he’s had since the third grade, he refused to change it per his mom’s request at the start of high school. “no way, mom! it’s my favorite lunch box and its metal and has  _ star trek _ on it! it’s totally cool and retro!”) and shoving it haphazardly into his nearly empty backpack.

“where are you going, lunch isn’t even over yet?” jake spoke through chunks of peaches and looked up from his fruit cup.

“uh… i’m gonna go to the bathroom. if i don’t come back before the end of lunch, don’t worry, i’ll text the group chat.” he played it off, sending jake a look.

jake fortunately bought the bait, shrugged, and looked back down to the plastic fork he was pushing the fruit around with. 

michael stood, half-heartedly swinging his bag onto his shoulder and marched out of the lunch room, trying to rack his brain of places jeremy would go to in school when he was nervous. he tries the courtyard, beelining to a secluded corner by the arts building. 

there, he finds jeremy sitting against a wall, knees pulled up to his chest with his chest resting atop them. michael has the fleeting thought that he’s crying when he sees him wipe at his eyes and sniffle. he’s scrolling on his phone - he hasn’t noticed michael, yet.

michael stands there, headphones on his ears, hands in his pockets and scuffs his shoe into the ground, clearing his throat. in that same second, jeremy’s head snaps up with a strangled squeak.

“muh-michael!” he scrambles, throwing his phone into his bag and wrapping his arms around his legs. “uh, wh-what are you doing here?”

“well, for starters, i go to school here.”

“no shit, sherlock. not what i m-”

“but i also wanted to see why my best friend for most of my life has been avoiding me since he got out of the hospital,” michael shrugs, hoping he comes off cold. he watches jeremy wipe his hands on his jeans. he’s nervous, not meeting his eyes. realizing that michael won’t get him to look up at him (plus, it’s midday and super bright out), he sits down in front of jeremy.

“you won’t look at me.” it isn’t a question.

“yeah, i… i know,” jeremy looks off to the side of michael, twirling his finger around the bunny ear loop of his shoelaces.

“why?”

“uh… because i don’t like eye contact?”

“bullshit. you always look me in the eye. i’m the only person you can stand to look in the eye.” he kicks one leg out from his criss-cross. “what’s up with you, dude?”

“can we-” jeremy inhales and his face looks almost pained. “can we talk about this later? at home?”

michael sighs, leaning back. he mulls it over. “...yeah, fine. i’ll come over after school at six.”

jeremy nods, focusing on the flag patches on his left sleeve. “yeah, okay, sounds good.”

* * *

jeremy walks home that day alone, his earbuds blasting whatever musical christine told him to listen to that week. he looks up as he approaches his house, mildly surprised to see his dad’s car not in the driveway. he shrugs, robotically pulling his  _ legend of zelda _ lanyard from his pocket and unlocking his door. 

he sighed, kicking his shoes off at the door and trudging up his stairs and tossing his bag into his room haphazardly. he unbuckles his belt, pulling off his pants (and stands there in his room if he should jerk one out before michael comes over. he shakes his head, reaching onto his bed for his basketball shorts.

3:20 pm.

he leaves his bag thrown by his desk and clambors onto his bed to scroll his tumblr feed and maybe nap in the short reprieve he has before he tells michael everything he hadn’t told him before. jeremy spends at least fifteen minutes on his dash before his eyelids get heavy, he has half a mind to text michael to call him when he gets to his house and sets his ringer on loud. his phone lay next to his head, screen down, and he turns his head the other way and closes his eyes, falling into a dreamless nap.

jeremy’s phone buzzes and beeps several times as he naps (which, he realizes later, prevented him from really taking a nap, but he was still in and out of consciousness).

six o’clock rolls around sooner that he’d expected because he jolts awake to his pacman ringtone and groans a greeting when he holds the answered call to his ear. “nnh?”

“good morning to you, too. i’m outside. do you want me to use my key?”

jeremy nods, then, realizing michael can’t see him nod, groans again though he’s a bit more coherent this time. “nnyeah, i’ll be right down.”

“no need, bro, i’ll grab some drinks for us,” michael closes the door behind him, locking it. “go brush your teeth. you probably have that post-nap gunk breath.”

“wow, dude, you’re so nice to me,” jeremy snorts and stands up, stretching. “gonna hang up, come up to my room.”

“roger, roger.”  _ click. _

jeremy throws his phone face up on his night table and yawns as he walks into his bathroom, he does his usual routine and throws water on his face, making himself look… somewhat alive. jeremy pushes his door open to find michael sitting on his bed, jumping through the tv channels.

“dude, there’s nothing on,” michael flits his eyes from the tv to jeremy.

“that’s because it’s six, dude. nothing is ever on now. besides the news.”

michael inputs his go to music channel and tosses the remote next to him. “yeah, true. but that’s too depressing."

there’s a beat and neither of them say anything; too afraid of saying the wrong thing. jeremy feels awkward in his own skin and he’s trying his absolute best to discreetly dart his eyes back and forth from michael to his floor. clearly, he isn’t being discreet enough because michael looks at him (unnervingly comfortable, in jeremys eyes, he’s all laid back against jeremy’s pillows as if nothing has changed between them) and cocks his head in a questioning manner. 

“you good, bro?”

he squeaks out an incoherent response, opting then for gibberish and vaguely throwing his hands about. michael looks about ready to pass out from holding in his laughter. “don’t be mean!” he manages to get out.

“i’m not, dude, you’re just so - ahaha! - so fucking ridiculous!” he bursts out in laughter, leaning forward and holding his stomach.

jeremy thinks for a fleeting moment that they might not talk about the elephant in the room and that thought makes him the slightest bit happy. then michael sits back up and he sees the dying happiness and laughter on his face.

he clears his throat, looking directly at jeremy (to which, jeremy immediately averts his eyes;  _ michael knows how much i hate direct eye contact, especially in situations like this. doesn’t matter that it’s  _ michael,  _ it’s still prolonged, direct eye contact _ .) “uh… so. should we, um. should we start talking?” he pauses. “about… you know.”

jeremy looks everywhere but michael, mostly staring at his dirty dark blue converse. “yeah,” he squeaks out and clears his throat before repeating himself. “yeah, we should.” he twiddles with his bedspread absentmindedly, still feeling michael’s gaze on him. he bites the bullet and looks up at him, “suh-so… where do you want to start?”

“why don’t you start with after school, when you wore the eminem shirt.” michael crosses his arms across his chest as he speaks at the same time as jeremy. it isn’t a question, jeremy realizes, it’s a statement and despite the cardigan and jeans he was wearing, jeremy’s freezing on the end of his glare. it’s so unlike what he normally is used to but, he figures, he deserves michael’s cold, hard stare and short, curt responses.

_ you don’t deserve his friendship anymore,  _ jeremy - is it really jeremy thinking that? - thinks. the thought makes him physically sick to his stomach; he wants so bad to believe that he and michael are still as close as they were before he got the squip. before he fucked everything up. he just wants to go back to the way things were before junior year. jeremy’s realizing now -  _ way too late, dumbass _ , he thinks - that he was better when he had one friend, when he was a nobody at school, invisible. when he was bullied almost everyday by rich. rich. he wishes he didn’t listen to rich at the start of junior year.

“uh, um, so.” he says, though it’s barely audible. “that-that day, obviously, i… blocked you from my field of vision because my squip said you were a link to ‘jeremy one-point-oh.’” he holds up air quotes. “which… i guess you are, but at that time i thought that was the worst thing, i did-didn’t want to be that version of me, so i took the upgrade. which was being anything but who i was and not hanging out with you anymore,” he takes in a shaky breath. 

“the… the halloween party, though, that was all me. with an added dash of manipulation, thank you squip,” jeremy swallows thickly and grimaces. “i thought what you were saying was bullshit until the play. i’m sorry for calling you a loser” - michael winces and doesn’t think jeremy notices (he does) - “um… right before the play, my squip made me pour all of rich’s squips he had - he had a whole shoebox of them, dude, like there was enough for the whole school and more!

“a-anyway, it made me put them into a beaker used for the play and pour mountain dew over it so that the cast would drink it when they were cued to and they’d all be squipped and synced to my squip.” he clears his throat again. “and-and then you came in, giving me the red and then jake dumped it out and, you know, whatever was left, i had christine drink and got rid of all the squips via chris.”

this whole time, he’s stared at his sneakers, clenching his hand around his comforter and furrowing his brows. he hasn’t looked up to michael, not wanting to crack under his stare; he knows he’ll break down into a mess of blubbering and sobs and apologies and that isn’t what michael wants to hear right now (and, to add onto that, jeremy knows michael hates incessant and repetitive apologies, especially overdone ones that don’t need to be overdone. just say you’re sorry the first time, mean it, and, hopefully, move on with your life).

jeremy doesn’t say anything more, though the way he inhales clues michael into the idea that he does. so he stays silent in hopes that he’ll continue.

jeremy opens his mouth and then promptly closes it - he does this several times, looking almost like a fish.

“i… uh,” he clears his throat. “i wish i could take it all back, mike. if anything, i want you to know that, ultimately. i wish i hadn’t listened to rich. i’m sorry.” jeremy looks up, finally meeting eyes, nervousness hiding right under the regret he had for his decisions. he feels tears well up in his eyes but blinks them away.  _ don’t fucking cry, heere. don’t be a wuss and crack under his gaze. _

michael swallows thickly and shifts in his spot. before he can speak, jeremy interrupts him again.

“but i think… what’s making this so much harder than it might seem is that…” jeremy inhales sharply. “i never told you what - or who, rather - my squip looked like.”

“you told me it looked like keanu reeves.”

“that was a lie.” the minute the words left his mouth, he saw michael’s face contort into sad anger. “buh-but that was because i didn’t know what else to say! the real answer is really embarrassing.”

“dude, you  _ love  _ keanu reeves! what could be more embarrassing than that?”

“my…” jeremy sighs, looking down at his hands that have currently taken to fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan. “my squip didn’t look like keanu reeves or anyone” - he didn’t finish that thought. he reworded. - “my squip didn’t look like any celebrity. it looked like someone i know,” he pauses. “like… someone i  _ really  _ know.” he grinds his teeth together, a nervous habit he sometimes does unknowingly. a nervous habit the squip shocked him for doing (he has the faintest light blue glitch marks on his jaw, neck and right under his ear. those shocks hurt much more than the ones to his wrists and lower back).

“so… who did it look like?” michael sits forward, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

“you really wanna know?” jeremy mumbles out, receding further into his sweatshirt. 

“uhhh, yeah, buddy, i’d like to know so i can beat whoevers ass that floppy disk took shape of.”

jeremy grimaced and glanced over at michael from his shell. “michael… uh… my squip looked like… you.” he winces as he says it, immediately cowering away from michael and holding his hands up to block any and all hits he might receive, he mumbles a mantra under his breath (“pleasedon’thitmepleasedon’thitmepleasedon’thitme). when he doesn’t, jeremy sneaks a glance at him, the fear in his eyes emanating all over his body and spilling out of him, infecting the air in his room.

“m-mich--”

“what- uh… why did it look like me?”

“told me it took the form of someone i care about and adore most,” jeremy ushered out quickly, turning away from him. he folds in on himself, bringing his legs up to his chest and hiding his face in his knees. jeremy hears shuffling to his left and flinches when he feels michael sit next to him.  _ close _ , he thinks. he wants to lean into him for comfort but he’s terrified to.  _ he doesn’t want to be shocked again or hurt in other ways. _

michael’s heart aches as he watches jeremy flinch. carefully, he goes to wrap his arms around his shoulders in a comforting hug.  _ say something, idiot!  _ he chews on his lip, searching for the right words to say. “uh… um… can-can i touch you?”

jeremy inhales and exhales shakily, hesitant to let michael touch him but nods anyway. “please,” he manages out. immediately, michael’s hands are on jeremy, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other pressed against jeremy. his thumbs rub into his soothingly into jeremy’s cardigan. jeremy melts into the pressure, but still tense against him. “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, playing with the stretched out ends of his sleeves.

“what are you sorry for?” michael wants to lean fully onto jeremy and hold him tight, he wants to rest his chin on his shoulder but he doesn’t - not without his permission first.

“for being an ass and taking that stupid pill. for not telling you who my squip looked like in the first place.” jeremy looks back at michael, trying to hold eye contact and now cower away. “for being the worlds shittiest best friend to the worlds greatest best friend. for everything since the beginning of the school year.”

michael frowns, holding him a bit tighter. “may i?” he murmurs, tapping his shoulder, he gets the nod of approval and rests his chin on jeremy’s shoulder. “okay. yeah, you were and it hurt like hell, but didn’t you also say that you hated being who you were before the squip? that you wanted to change and be different?”

“well, yeah, but, still. in the process of doing all that, i hurt you. i hurt my favorite person, the guy i told we’d always be a team. i ruined that. i ruined our friendship.”

“hey, hey, dude.” jeremy sniffs, using his sleeve to wipe at his nose and eyes as he turns his head away from michael. “you didn’t ruin anything…”

“michael,  _ please  _ don’t try to downplay what i did or placate me. i hurt you and threw away twelve of the best years of my life for stupid popularity that literally won’t matter at all in ten years and a girl who ended up saying that we were better off as friends and nothing more. i hurt you so bad and i regret it. i regret it so deep in me.” he pauses for a breath, turning back to look at michael with a red, tear-stained face. he takes a deep and shaky breath, “i ruined everything.”

(what he doesn’t say is the questioning of himself he went through after getting out of the hospital and confiding in rich and christine and jake about it and finally coming to terms with and accepting that he’s bi - “there’s a  _ word  _ for that? for liking both?” - and possibly coming to terms with the fact that he might have more than platonic feelings for michael. which scares him to the point of nearly making him sick - “christine, i literally, actually  _ can’t _ ! i hurt him so much, and i doubt he would ever even think of me like that.” - and calling out of school some days. he’s a mess.)

michael, at a loss for words, chews on his lip and doesn’t say anything. he only tightens his hold around him and presses his nose to his shoulder. “i know. i don’t mean to downplay anything. i just want things to be the way they were before.”

“and they’ll get there, i just… need to not be a dick anymore. to everyone. especially you,” he sniffs, reaching up to wipe at his nose with his sleeve (and reminds himself to pick up his dirty laundry and set up a wash once he’s done sobbing). “and if that means changing everything about me then so be it. well… changing everything about me  _ back _ to the way it was.” he finishes with a sigh, mumbling something else offhandedly.

“i mean it’s a start-- wait, what was that?”

“what was what?”

“that last thing you just said.”

“i-it was nothing,” jeremy’s face flushes and he turns his head away again, hiding partially behind his (not snot-ridden) sleeve. “i didn’t say anything, micah.”

“no, you said something.”

“you’ll have to get it out of me.”

“jeremiah adam heere,” michael tsks, “you and i both know that that is a very dangerous game. and we both know how it ends.” he warns, quirking an eyebrow up at him. 

“m-maybe so, but i’m not going to tell you voluntarily. it’s not even a major ‘ _ lose your mind over it _ ’ kinda thing either. it’s literally the dumbest thing.”

“but will that information stop me from tickling you?” michael’s hands move from their locked spot on jeremy’s stomach to hovering over his sides. “absolutely not.” he inches them closer until jeremy cracks.

“ah! okay! okay, don’t-don’t tickle me… i just wanted to know if you wanted to play some video games before you had to leave. i know it probably… isn’t the best after what we just talked about but i’d really like to not think or dwell on my shitty mistakes and choices right now.”

at michael’s start, jeremy cuts him off. “but i wanna wash up first, so you can set up the game. your choice,” he smiles, wiggling his way out of michael’s arms and carefully pulls his snotty cardigan off himself. “i’ll be right back.” he tosses it into his hamper and grabs another shirt from his dresser before leaving his room. he gives michael another softer and much more genuine smile and leaves for the bathroom. 

_well_, michael thinks. _it’s a start to a new chapter in their friendship._


End file.
